WRITTEN IN A WINTER'S MORNING by B. FINCH

Though storms and tempests mark thy gloomy reign,
Stern winter! still the poet's eye shall find
Full many a charm to linger in thy train --
Spread round thy frozen panoply of snow;
In icy chains, each brook and streamlet bind;
Still unappalled the Christmas rose shall blow,
And beauteous crocuses their golden bloom
Disclose, ere yet thy ruthless reign be past;
And bright mezereon breathe its faint perfume,
Amid the rigors of thy northern blast:
Whilst on the leafless lime pale mistletoe
Its wax-like berries hangs, and green of sickly cast.
And the sweet redbreast, from his laurel bower,
Warbles his vespers clear, at twilight's sober hour.

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